Chosen
by Hawkflight7
Summary: It's the day the tributes are to be picked, a lottery no one wants to win. For it only brings grief and pain. Never love. Never.


**Chosen**

 **Summary: It's the day the tributes are to be picked, a lottery no one wants to win. For it only brings grief and pain. Never love. Never.**

 **Because I love Foxface, who will forever go by the name Renard from this point on. (it's fox in french for those that don't know. belle is self-explanatory)**

She slipped around the bars, bare feet gripping the metal tubes beneath them as she jogged at a moderate pace surrounded by flickering lights, away from the main halls and streets that would be packed with people now. All heading to the Court House where a train would be arriving soon if it hadn't already.

It had been District Four's turn the day before and now it was theirs. The Hunger Games was going to start soon.

She picked up her pace as she moved swiftly through the forest of metal, every movement was fluid, practiced; as she jumped over a tangle of wires coated in metal, directing the solar energy her district harvested to the facility she was in now.

A facility with large floors that stretched up into the sky and reached deep into the earth, numerous large batteries filled the lower floors to keep every district running, the power growing weaker the further it went. Fewer cables running along the tracks of the train to connect every district and create one large line. Of course, they helped the Capitol with power as well, but that dam of theirs was a major source for them. District Five simply provided the rest of the power the dam couldn't produce and served as backup in case their power went out for whatever reason. They made sure that the Capitol and the first three districts continued to live their comfortable lives, largely unaffected by the yearly games. Since those districts didn't have to worry about the lottery, the people there always wanted to volunteer.

She launched herself from the metal tubes and onto the service ladder, climbing up to jab at the buttons placed next to the sheet of metal above it. The soft red glow shifted to green, the metal plate sliding back and she climbed through the opening, to the surface above.

The light was blinding, taking a little more than a second for her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the sun. As the metal slid back into place she took off running down the alleyway, barely two feet wide between the large concrete buildings of the factory. Just ahead to the right was a flight of stairs she could go up, to make it to the second floor and use the catwalks that criss-crossed above to make it to the Court House without needing to use any direct path like most other residents.

As she began her ascent up those stairs she could only see one other person running along the catwalks, though she wasn't sure if it was to get to the Court House or if they needed to do some quick maintenance before heading that way.

When she caught their gaze as she began walking on the metal boards she raised her hand to give a wave, her lips twitching up into a small smile when they waved back, shouting across the walk ways, "Don't be late to the Reaping, Vulpes!"

She simply gave a nod of her head in acknowledgement before continuing on her predetermined path.

Vulpes. It was a word from an old dead language, meaning fox. A word that the few people she worked with called her, not her actual name. No one had said it in so long that she was sure she had forgotten it, as it took her some time thinking over it to actually remember her own name. One she hadn't bothered to remember since her parents had died from sickness, leaving her on her own.

Besides, she didn't mind Vulpes, no matter why they called her it. If it was for her bright red hair similar to the coat of a fox or the way she she moved in the shadows of her district. As solitary as the creature she was named after.

She slowed to a walk after descending from the catwalk, down to the open courtyard in front of the Court House, currently containing only a few people. She made her way to one of the tables set up in the yard, extending her hand so the assistant could prick her finger with a needle before moving further into the yard, stopping only to stare up at the glass bowls holding little slips of paper of those around her own age. One for the males, the other for the females.

As the courtyard began to fill up she couldn't take her gaze off the one that contained her own name. How many times had she entered her name in it this year? Nearly ten. Ten little slips of paper surrounded by a couple thousand. None of them had been drawn in the years when her name was first entered into that bowl. It wouldn't be picked this year either.

Even with the knowledge that her name being picked was so small a shiver ran down her spine, making her body go cold even though it was the middle of the day, with the sun beating down on her from above.

Her heart nearly stopped when a woman stepped out of the Court House, walking to the microphone standing in the middle of the platform. "Hello, District Five and welcome to the annual Reaping! The Hunger Games start now for you all! I'll begin with the ladies. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The woman from the Capitol walked off to her left, dipping a hand into the bowl and making a show of mixing those thin little papers before clasping onto one and drawing it out. Once she was back in front of the microphone she announced the name and it nearly stopped her heart.

For a few seconds she just stood there, staring up at the platform, thinking she had heard wrong, but there was no mistake. The woman had called her name and now she was looking questioningly out at the crowd, repeating the name, asking for _her_ to come forward.

It took a couple more seconds until she could get her feet to move and walk up those stairs and onto the platform, turning to face those in her district, staring out at them as the woman prattled on about how lucky she was to be a participant in the games. Before going to the other bowl and drawing another name, requesting a boy from her district to walk up the stairs as well.

Shortly after the woman requested for them to shake hands and she raised a hand to clasp onto the boy's looking into brown eyes for that second before the Peacekeepers ushered them into the Court House and into separate rooms. Where they were to have ten minutes to say goodbye to family and friends.

She didn't even look at the door though, just stared at the window, knowing no one was coming. Her parents were dead and she had been there only daughter. She had cut ties with their family friends the sickness took them, the only people she talked to at all - and only when she had to - was the men and women she worked with. None of which she knew very well.

So after four minutes had passed she got up to go and knock on the only other door in the room. "I would like to leave now for the train," she spoke through the wood door to the guard she knew was guarding it, to make sure she didn't run.

"Are you sure?" A voice asked from beyond the door.

"Yes."

"Very well." The Peacekeeper opened the door, letting her through and then following her as the door shut behind them, obscuring the sound of the door opening from the other side of a now empty room.

She walked through the hall, not needing anyone's assistance to find the train station behind the Court House and climbing aboard to hear the other tribute climb into the car minutes after her. He didn't say a word to her, moving to a door connecting the cars of the train, leaving her alone to stare out at the window as the train began to move, taking them away and towards the Capitol.

It felt like she had been staring out at the stretch of fields they were passing by for an hour at least, if not more when the sound of the door sliding open filled her ears. "I was beginning to wonder where the other tribute for District Five was." At the sound of a man's voice, holding that undisguiseable Capitol accent she turned her head. "I heard that no one came to say goodbye to you. So I thought I would welcome you to the Capitol myself."

The man was smiling, one that looked genuine, but these Capitol folk seemed to have an odd sense of morals, always getting excited when the Hunger Games began. Probably because they didn't give any tributes themselves. They didn't know how it felt to turn into prey one day out of the year, a feeling that stayed with you if you were chosen. Like she had been.

"I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself, did I? My name is Seneca Crane. I'm the Head Gamemaker for this year." He continued to smile as she looked at him, still not saying a word. His clothes weren't as elaborate as the woman's had been, but his beard was trimmed in an odd way, looking like the waves of a sea she had seen once in a book when she was little. His hair was black, slicked back with gel. If she couldn't have known from his accent the neat jacket he wore, black and showcasing a red shirt underneath told her he was from the Capitol. No one she had grown up with cared to take such care with their clothes. "What about you, dear? What's your name?"

She blinked, not entirely sure why he was asking. If he was the Gamemaker then he should have been watching the woman pull her name out of that glass bowl. But maybe he was simply trying to be polite. He had introduced himself first before asking for her own name after all. It would be rude not to answer.

"They call me, Vulpes."

"Vulpes? The latin word for fox?" He looked rather amused at this. At least he wasn't commenting on who called her Vulpes and why, though it must be pretty clear to him. "I see. Would you mind if I called you something else?" At the shake of her head, signalling she didn't he spoke again after a couple seconds had passed. "What about, Renard?" The r rolled on his tongue, the word flowing like fine wine from the curves of his mouth.

She had opened her own mouth, to repeat the word before she could stop herself. "Renard." It felt nice on her tongue, smoother than Vulpes, almost... sensual.

"Belle Renard," Seneca said, taking a step toward her. "What is it you did for a living?"

"Maintenance," she answered, watching him as he walked over towards her, a hand dipping into a pocket, making her tense for the second it was out of sight. But he only drew out a thin piece of fabric from his pocket, a blue handkerchief.

He held the cloth up, pressing it against her cheek a second later when she didn't move away. Seneca rubbed at the skin beneath the fabric for a few moments before pulling his hand away and she could see the dark smudge on the cloth. Likely from some spatter of oil that had just been on her cheek. He folded it, then pressed it to her other cheek, though she didn't feel him rubbing at the skin again so she had to question if there was any oil there as well.

"Would you like to live in luxury for the next few days? If a lovely fox such as yourself doesn't mind keeping a man like me some company, that is?"

She didn't say anything right away, trying to dissect his words and what he meant. Of course anyone in her district wouldn't mind living in luxury, but she recalled the Victor from her district saying how all tributes lived in a place called the Tributes Tower in the Capitol before being released into the Hunger Games. But then her mind stopped, hanging onto those two words he had said.

Lovely fox.

Had he just called her pretty? She met his gaze, amber meeting light blue. He was the Head Gamemaker. Surely if he wanted a tribute for company he would be looking in the first two districts? His smile didn't waver though, those eyes weren't leaving hers.

Her lips curved up. "I wouldn't mind."


End file.
